


I’m Feelin’ a Little Peculiar

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: Lucifer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: LA  A hunt  A detective and the devil...
Relationships: LLucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I have a thrillion other flcs but I had this idea planted in my mind and I had to give it a try. So, fo that person (you know who you are) if you approve of it, I will continue (;

I’m Feelin’ a Little Peculiar. 

"Turututuru turururu, 26 years and my life is still trying to get up that great big hill of hope, for a destination...” Dean sings along with the nearby sounding radio. He’s 26 and that number still fits the song so he took the creative license, okay?

Besides, it isn’t as if 4 Non-blondes is here to police his singing so no judging. 

Though ‘Alone Again, Naturally’ would be more befitting for the ocassion but well, where is Gilbert Sulivan when you need him, anyway. 

He’s been abandoned. Again. 

Sam is on his way to becoming a lawyer, because studying has always been more important than family. And his dad- well. No point on dwelling on it now. 

He’s in L.A. now, he may as well get to enjoy it. 

His father is gone. Sammy is gone. He’s free. 

After ganking the vamp nest, that is. Because he may be free but that doesn’t mean he will slacken his job. 

Though finding anything supernatural in the so called City of Angels will be like finding a needle in a haystack or whatever. 

For now though, he is lounging on the steps of a shady building with some nice chinese takeout and a chilled beer. The rest can wait. ..

A scuffle. 

"Get off me, you creep!" 

... or not. 

Dean sighs, seems like vamp is out for blood (pun totally intended) and closes the lid of his takeout box before placing it behind some plants, in place of his machete. 

"Business as usual," he mutters, twirling his weapon twice before hidding it behind his back and makes his way into the alley (because it’s always an alley) to see a petite girl backing another into a wall. 

Now that would be incredibly hot if said blonde chick didn’t have a mouthful of needle-like fangs inches away from the brunette’s neck. She’s... licking the exposed skin, letting out little hums of pleasure as she goes. Creepy. 

"Hey you, Cullen chick. There will be no spilling of the blood," he calls out, touching his machete for comfort. 

The vamp-chick groans. "Oh you think yourself sooo original, don’t you, clever boy?" she whines, words somewhat slurred because of her fangs still in full display. 

Ah vampires, Dean loves the theatrics. Some are quite good in their dramatics. Maybe these LA bloodsuckers will be all like that. 

Dean rolls his eyes. "Sorry Sparkles, but it never grows old," he smirks and wiggles an eyebrow as if saying ‘see what I did there?’ 

The vampire chick doesn’t look impressed. 

Like at all. 

She just stands there, hands on hips and hissing at him. 

Her would-be-victim is nowhere to be seen, as if she’d never been there in the first place. 

"This is just like a bad Hollywood movie,” he shaKes his head and grabs his weapon. "Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’ve got dinner waiting for me," he twirls the gleaming machete around provocatively. 

"You made me lose my meal. It’s only fair I return the favor," the vampire growls, looking seriously... vampiric now. 

Dean sighs, taking a fighting stance, goading the creature by making a ‘come on’ motion with his head that leaves his neck exposed. "Bring it on, then," he says. 

The vampire hisses and the next second she is on him. "Trying to get a taste of Winchester finest," he huffs, laughing lowly. 

"You don’t smell like anything special," she snarls, pushing him back to try and crowed him against the wall. She’s stronger than she looks. Dean always forgets how strong vampires are. 

But still Dean has fought bloodsuckers before and he’s pretty adept with a machete and some sort of defense movements that his father engraved in him and others he picked up on brawls. 

So yeah, he ain’t easy prey. 

"This ain’t my first rodeo, sweetheart," he winks at her. 

She, however, manages to land a few scratches here and there that will sting like a bitch later. A thing she doesn’t manage, thanks to Dean’s skill and fortune, is to rip a chunck of any of Dean’s pulse points. 

"Should’ve known you were one of those pesky hunters," the vamp hisses, struggling to regain the uper hand on the fight. 

"Can’t you smell our kind yet?" he chuckles a little breathless, swinging his weapon once but she ducks so he misses. "Pity," he clicks his tongue mockingly, ignoring the crazy laugh the vampire spits in his face as she ducks. 

"You are still a little slow, for this not being your first rodeo, cowboy," she mocks while stalking him with a predatory air upon her. 

"Well I’m only human after all," he grunts, preparing for the next move. 

She laughs in dark amusement, closing in on him teasingly slowly. "Oh sweetheart," she drawls, "let me show you what a nice ride looks like," she winks at him. 

"Looking forward to it, Sparkles," he smiles cheerfully. 

The vampire opens her mouth wide, retracting her fangs, and launches herself at him. 

Perfect. That’s what he wanted. 

It’s the perfect combination of her momentum and his quickness of movement- 

And off with her head. 

It falls with a wet thud satisfactorily. "Now I call that a ‘nice ride’ sweetheart," he retorts, wiping the blood that had splashed into his face. 

He’s about to clean up and go back to his chinese noodles and hopefully still cool beer before going to find himself a motel room. Or maybe go explore the... L,Agian (does that exist?) scene and get himself plastered. 

"Wait! You stay right there, sir!"

Life, it seems, sometimes just doesn’t go his way. 

Shit. 

-

There are two other people with him in the alley now. The girl that was about to be vamp snack probably called the cops or something given the blonde, professional-looking woman pointing a gun at him. Dean shouldn’t find that attractive. 

But can you blame him for having a weakness for women who know how to handle guns and that probably could kick his ass?

The other person is a dark-haired man that arrived seconds later. He’s smartly dressed in a dark-grey suit and a pair of glittering eyes. "Detective," he speaks with a british accent that Dean should definitely not find attractive. "I am sure the man has a perfect explanation for why he... beheaded that girl," he says, trying to sound placating. 

"I do," Dean’s brain decides to supply. "She was a vampire,” he blurts out. 

He probably should’ve been more careful with his words. 

The woman looks at him as if he’s lost his mind and doesn’t lower her gun. Her companion just looks curious. 

"Are you drunk or high?" she asks. 

Dean’s face scrunches in confusion, he guesses it had to be expected.  
But still. "Ah-uh, no," he stutters. He just drank half a beer, would that count as being drunk? "Listen, lady, why don’t we both lower our weapons and, ah- talk about this?" he asks hopefully, slowly lowering his machete into the ground, feeling incredibly lucky he’d thought about cleaning the blood from his face before having company. 

She doesn’t look convinced but she puts the gun away nonetheless. "Explain," she demands. 

Her companion walks closer to the corpse with a curious frown. He moves with such grace and confidence, as if he were totally at ease in his body. It’s magnetic and Dean wants to find it annoying. Instead he just finds it... enticing. 

"Uh," Dean clears his throat to try and dislodge the sudden lump. "I found the reports about the murders and how you haven’t caught anyone," he says, following the other man’s movements with the side of his eye. 

The woman eyes him suspiciously. "And so you decided the crimes were committed by vampires?" she asks skeptically. 

"Welp, considering they were all drained of blood and had several puncture wounds, yes," he offers. 

The detective looks from him to the chopped head and back to him, judging eyebrow raised. "Let’s say I believe you, is there a way you can prove it?"

"Actually, there is," he winks cheekily, blessed retracting vampire fangs. 

He motions for her to come closer which she does reluctantly, and crouches so he can access the creature’s mouth easily. 

When the woman is standing close enough, he hooks a finger under the vamp’s uper-lip and with a disgusted grunt he pulls it up. As he presses into her gums and the thin, needle-like fangs pop out he hears an intake of breath and a little ‘uh, I had forgotten," that he doesn’t understand and would have to inquire about later. 

"Surely that proves the man’s point, detective," the british asks, pleasantly. 

"Shut up, Lucifer," she grunts. 

Dean pauses, staring up at the dark-haired man. There is something in that smile that totally screams ‘devil.’ 

But wait-Lucifer? As in- "wait, wait. You mean... you- you’re the devil?" he rambles his way into the question. 

The man smiles charmingly, extending his hands. "The one and only. I hope," he drawls. 

Dean just stares at him not knowing what to say. He turns his stare to the lady detective who is rolling her eyes. 

"You are not the devil, Lucifer," she sounds exasperated, as if she’s been saying these same words a thousand times a day. 

The man- Lucifer, sighs also in exasperation though maybe fonder. "Why, detective, I have proven time and again that I am, in fact, the devil," he says, derisive laugh in his voice. 

The woman ignores him, focusing back on Dean. "Alright, so that’s a vampire," she still looks skeptic when she stares at the head. "What does that make you?"

("Buffy the vampire slayer," an alternative Lucifer answers). 

Dean blinks at her for a moment, not knowing what or how to answer that. Or even if he should answer at all. 

But the detective is giving him an expectant look and god knows he isn’t looking forward to having a gun pointed at him again nor risking arrest. So he talks. “I hunt the things that go bump in the night," he says, hoping that would be enough. 

"Huh, when you say ‘things’-" 

You see, no such luck. 

Dean hungs his head, sighing. "I mean... things,” he offers helplessly. "Listen, detective... ah-"

“Decker," she offers curtly. 

"- detective Decker, there’s a... whole bunch of these creatures I need to take care of so I’ll have to beg you to please let me go," here he musters his inner Sam and tries the dubbed ‘puppy eyes’ on her. 

She must be used to them because she appears unaffected. She just stands there, scrutinizing him carefully. "You mean to tell me that there are more of these?” she points at the body with the tip of her boot. 

Dean nods. “That’s exactly what I mean to tell you."

"And you are going to hunt him on your own."

He nods. Jesus, is it really that hard to believe?

There’s a pregnant pause as she contemplates something. 

Meanwhile Lucifer (yes, seriously) has picked up the machete and is swirling it around as if it were a sword. He seems to be familiar with it though, his grip is firm and isn’t touching the blade like some idiots tend to do. 

Dean feels a morbid fascination with the man, wether he is the real devil or not. The man is sinfully attractive and appealing to some of Dean’s tastes and-

“Alright,” the woman finally speaks, interrupting his inner ponderations. "I will let you go with one condition."

There’s always a catch, isn’t there? He exhales through his nose. "Let’s here it," he grumbles. 

"I go with you. When you go... hunting or whatever it is you do, I come with you.”

Oh. No. Absolutely not. "Sorry but I don’t think that’s-" he starts to refuse. 

“Do you want to accompany me to the station?" she interrupts harshly. 

“Of course not but-"

“Do not argue with the detective," the british man places a hand on his shoulder, forestalling his protest. "It would be wiser to simply agree," he smiles conspiratorially. 

Dean knows this will be a mistake, a terrible bad idea. The detective may know how to handle humans but vampires? And a nest at that. Doesn’t look like it. Dean will regret this, he’s sure of it. 

But he can’t afford to go to prison, he’s father would flame him alive. 

So he begrudgingly acquiesces. "Fine, but if you die it’s on you," he warns, trying to sound tough and confident but missing by a mile. 

The detective snorts. "Don’t worry, I know how to handle myself," she says. 

"And quite well, if I can say so myself,” the other man adds. 

Dean doesn’t have time for this; is hungry, in desperate need of a shower and tired, not to mention he still has to go in search of a motel. He better be wrapping this up then. "Okay, whatever. Meet me back here in two days. In that time you better learn how to whirl a machete," he says, going to take his own back from Lucifer. 

"Why two days?" she asks suspiciously. 

"Don’t worry your pretty little head, not planning to stand you up," he speaks somewhat unthinkingly. He probably shouldn’t be talking like this to a law officer but he never thinks straight when he is tired.   
“I need to do my research. I’ve never been here before so I gotta familiarize and find these suckers’ lair,” he explains maybe a tad ruder than he should but he’s tired and he still has to deal with the body. Cause you don’t leave no beheaded body in an alley, you just don’t. Unless you wanna get caught, that is. 

"Uh, I can help with that," the brit says cheerfully. 

Dean spares him a quick glance and shrugs. "Also, any of you know where I can find a motel?”

The other man scoffs. “None of that. You’ll be staying with me, of course.”

Of course. 

"Yeah, sure. Why not," he mumbles. 

This will be interesting, if nothing else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter... I’m nervous. I hope you can still enjoy it though. 
> 
> I now have a fantastic muse that has given me great ideas that I hope I male to.

I’m Feelin’ a Little Peculiar. 

"You own a club," Dean mutters, awed at the brightly illuminated building in front of him. 

Lucifer smiles proud of his baby. "What did you expect from the devil?" he teases. "A club is the best place for people to... have some healthy fun while exploring their deepest desires,” he explains easily. 

Dean pauses with the lid of the trunk half-way open. "Deepest desires?" he asks a little intrigued. 

Lucifer smiles enigmatically. "You’ll see what I mean," he says without elaborating. "Ready?"

Dean nods and shoulders on his duffle bag, shutting down Baby’s trunk before following the man to the back of the local. 

"Beautiful car you’ve got there, by the way," the dark-haired man throws a cocketish wink over his shoulder at him. 

Dean inclines his head in thanks, preening at the compliment to his car. "Why, I thank you,sir. She is my love and pride," he drawls in what he intended to be a british-accent-imitation. "I try to work on her maintenance regularly," he can’t help to add with a small self-satisfied smirk. 

The man chuckles delightfully. "Hunter by day and mecanic by night, are you?"

Dean grins, walking a few feet behind him as they approach what seems to be the bar manned by a gorgeous brunette woman. 

"And you, club owner by day and detective lackey by night?" Dean asks back. 

Lucifer turns to quickly grin at him. "What can I say, I did always want to solve crimes," he shrugs. He, infuriatingly, makes the mundane gesture look elegant. 

"Huh." Dean frowns, puzzling over that last bit. “Did you read ‘The Sandman’ by any chance?" he asks because that reason sounds a lot like the plot of that comic. 

Lucifer has stopped in fromt of the bar by now and is pouring himself a glass of scotch. "I can’t be accused of such crime," he replies simply. "Now come here and allow me to introduce you to my red right hand and most trusted demon," he shares a secret little smile with the woman as he waves Dean closer. "Although I don’t even know your name," he frowns at Dean. 

The hunter smirks. “And yet you offered me shelter," he shakes his head in faux-disappointment. "How careless of you," he tuts. 

"You wanted to stay in a motel," the man says, scandalized with the mere idea. "I couldn’t let that happen now, could I?"

The woman leans against the counter, looking fairly bored. "You still haven’t said your name,” she says, studying Dean with curios indifference. 

Dean rolls his eyes, finally having reached the bar and dropping his bag next to a stool. “Name’s Dean Winchester,” he offers with a mock-bow. 

“Like the gun?" she asks with a spark of interest in her eyes. 

Dean has to make a physical effort not to face-palm. "The otther way around, sweetheart."

If looks could kill Dean would be six feet under. “Call me ‘sweetheart’ one more time," her tone is calm but then again, Dean is sure she doesn’t need it to be otherwise to get her point   
across. 

It seems that she’s inmune to his charms. Well, they do say there are exceptions to every rule. 

"Calm down Maze, Dean here is a hunter. You wouldn’t want to piss him off.” Lucifer says more amused than serious. 

The woman’s, Maze?- eyes get a dangerous gleam. Dean swallows nervously, not knowing what to expect. "You. Brought. A. Hunter. Here?" she enunciates. There’s a tense pause in which the demon and the devil exchange heated looks. "Freaking finally," she exclaims, turning back to Dean. "And a hot one at that."

Lucifer rolls his eyes. 

. "Yes because that is what I was thinking about,how hot he is," he sips from his drink seeming not to realize what he just said. Until he looks up to the shocked twin stares and hurries to speak before any of them can get a word in. "Anyway, he’s here to hunt vampires, the detective caught him killing one and now she’s got herself involved," he rushes to explain. 

The woman gives him a look but lets the comment slide. "Of course she did," the demon rolls her eyes before looking back to Dean with renewed interest. "Can I join? I’ve been itching for a hunt for months," she says. 

Dean bits back the smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Can I ask for your name first?"

"Mazikeen," she answers succinctly. "Don’t expect a handshake."

Damn, Dean is is totally going to enjoy this. "Can I expect a drink then?" he asks with a smile. 

Maze smirks, giving him a once-over that makes Dean hot under the collar. "If you can pay," she says. 

"Nonsense, it’s on the house." Lucifer hurries to amend, giving her a pointed look. "He is a guest."

"Well, if being a guest included free booze, you should’ve told me sooner.” Dean grins. "Then I wouldn’t have considered three ways of sending you back to Hell,” he jokes. 

Lucifer looks disappointed and maybe a little insulted. “Only three? Oh, what do they teach hunters these days," he whines. 

"They certainly don’t cover a possible encounter with the actual Devil in Hunting 101." Dean mumbles into his glass. "Nobody would believe me if I told them."

He hears a snort coming from next to him. "You can always get them to read ‘The Sandman’ then," the man chuckles. 

Dean lowers his drink and turns to give the man a smug, knowing look. "Oh so you’ve read it after all, huh?" he smirks. 

Lucifer blinks in confusion before realization dawns. "You still can’t prove nothing," he grumbles. 

Dean laughs quietly, picking his glass back up but pausing again when he remembers his abandoned chinese noodles. "Also, anywhere I can find food around here? I lost my dinner," he asks to either of them. 

Maze raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. "You lost your dinner," she says, somewhat disbelieving. "What are you, a werewolf?"

Dean shrugs nonchalantly. "If werewolves ate chinese takeout then yeah. I was eating when the vampire appeared and then detective Decker distracted me," he explains with a mortified sigh. "Left almost a full box of noodles and a bottle of beer behind some plants," he adds in regret. 

The smirk on Maze’s face is, well, devilish. "Yeah, the detective can be very distracting, right Lucifer?" she turns her perfect, incriminating eyebrow at him. 

Said man splutters uncharacteristically for a second before pulling himself together. "I don’t know what you are talking about, Maze," he sounds shaky and not at all convincing. "Anyway," he hurries on before she could say anything else. "I better show you to my penthouse upstairs. Where there’s food," he starts steering a confused Dean away from a cackling Maze, barely giving the hunter enough time to grab his things as he drags him on. 

The music in the club is loud but it doesn’t pound in your head; it’s smooth and tasteful and Dean thinks he would like to stop and enjoy it, maybe even dance to it. Around him people dance freely and wildly, they don’t seem to have any care in the world, Dean envies them. He wishes he knew how that felt like. 

He can’t stop to dwell on anything though, not as he tripped behind Lucifer as the man keeps dragging him. 

Jesus. This guy has issues. 

Lucifer finally lets him go once inside the elevator. Dean slumps against the wall in relief. "What was that about dude?" he asks bitingly, he doesn’t appreciate being manhandled. 

The other plays dumb. "Whatever may you mean?"

Dean exhales through his mouth, rubbing his eyes. "All that about the detective-"

Ding. 

Lucifer’s previously apprehensive face slackens with relief. "Ah, here we are," he almost throws himself out into the hall. "Come on," he calls, without looking back. 

"Fucking convenient." Dean huffs, reluctantly following after the evasive asshole. 

The room Lucifer shows him to is, of course, richly furnished. It’s set in purples because for some reason the devil finds violet fashionable. Who would have thought Satan had a sense for fashion. 

The bed looks so comfortable, there’s a fancy tv and a plush-looking rug it’s all more luxurious than any room he’s ever stayed in before. Even the shower’s pressure is perfect. 

Not that any of it matters, he’ll still be pissing off in two days tops. 

He’s turned his cellphone off because if his dad can drop out without saying goodbye and Sammy can give himself the luxury of not answering for days well so can Dean. 

For once in his life, he doesn’t care about what neither has to say. 

When Dean comes out of the shower the smell of something mouth-watering is wafting into the room. In true Dean’s fashion, he follows the scent like dogs follow after a row of sausages in the cartoons. 

He finds Lucifer in the kitchen, taking a payrex out of the oven. Whatever it is, it smells amazing and god Dean may just as well fall in love with the freaking devil. 

"Hungry?" the man asks with amusement, startling the hunter who thought the man hadn’t noticed. 

"Actually yeah." Dean chuckles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

Lucifer winks and motions for him to join him on the table. "Well then, come. This tastes better while hot." 

After grabing the cutlery and glasses that Lucifer told him to, the human finally sits down in front of the devil. 

Dean eyes the steaming dish with curiosity. “What’s that?" he asks, eyebrow raised. 

Lucifer takes the serving utensils and starts plating the food. "Baked pasta. It’s fettuccini with seasoned tomato sauce, cream, mozzarella and bread crumbs," he explains as he twirls the pasta with his fork daintly. 

Dean doesn’t comment on it though, he simply digs in with gusto... and proceeds to moan embarrassingly loud. 

"This. Is. Fucking. Awesome," he says through a mouthful. 

Lucifer nearly chokes with his own mouthful, he has to clear his throat several times before being able to speak. "Well, thank you," he answers... blushing? Sweet, he made Satan blush. Who’d have thunk it. 

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Lucifer seems to get it together and starts talking. "So," he says with interest. "Was hunting your career choice?" he asks. 

Dean doesn’t answer right away, thinking about how to reply. "Not really," he finally admits. 

"Oh," the devil looks up with understanding in his face. ""What happened to get you into the business?" he asks softly. 

Dean bits the inside of his cheek. Is he really going to tell his life’s story to the devil? I mean, he apparently has a life here and doesn’t seem to be doing anything nefarious. Besides, he actually looks interested so, why not? 

"Well, when I was 4 my mother got killed by a yellow-eyed demon. He, ah-" he swallows around the lump. Talking about this is still hard. "He wanted my brother, he was 6 months old, you see? And she stepped in the demon’s way," he cuts his rambling off when the lump is almost choking him. 

Lucifer’s eyes shine dangerously. "That sounds like a couple of demons I know," he mumbles. "So that’s what made you start to hunt?" 

Dean shrugs. "It was more my dad’s idea. He’s been looking for revenge for 20 years without pause. He wasn’t even a hunter when he met my mom," he lets out an empty laugh. "And yet he raised us as such." 

Lucifer huffs humorlessly. "I understand something of that," he says, eyes flashing red. 

The atmosphere has grown charged suddenly. There is a tension surrounding them as they start hinting at issues they don’t normally talk about. 

Thankfully Lucifer breaks it by clapping his hands together. "Well, let us talk of nicer things," he says, resting his elbows on the table and looks at Dean with a gleam in his eyes. Dean fears what he might say next. "What is your favorite movie?"

Dean slumps a little against the backrest, he’d expected something worse honestly. But also, seriously? He wouldn’t have pegged the devil for a cliché. He takes a sip of his drink and very seriously says, "The Princess Bride."

Lucifer’s eyes widen comically. "You can’t be serious," he complains. "You don’t strike me as that kind of guy."

"Sorry to disappoint," he plays it cool, though he doesn’t like the idea of being so easily read. "But that’s the truth. What movie did you think I was gonna say?" 

Lucifer shrugs, again so effortlessly. "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," making the words sound so smooth in his british accent. 

Dean scoffs, acting afronted. "Who d’you take me for, stud?" he asks with a slant. 

Lucifer laughs so carefree and melodiously. Dean thinks it’s like the sound of bells, of the purr of Baby’s engine, wait. 

Wait, wait, wait. 

Did he really just- compared Lucifer’s laugh with bells? And with Baby’s engine?

Shit, no. 

Dean gives himself a mental shake and clings to his safe line. “What’s yours?" he asks. "Please don’t say Rosemary’s Baby," he whines teasingly. 

Lucifer gasps. "Took the words right out of my mouth," he says, acting shocked. "But no, I don’t even like children," he chuckles, shaking his head. "You should see the little monster detective Decker calls her child." 

Dean smirks in amusement. "I’m sure they’re great," he shrugs. "Pity I won’t be here for long and get to meet the kid." 

Some sort of look passes over Lucifer’s face at that comment, too quickly for Dean to figure out. For a moment he thought it could be sadness or hurt or something but it’s silly and they met not two hours ago. So he dismisses it. 

"Anyway," he clears hIs throat, seeing he rather stirr the conversation back to easier subjects. “You didn’t answer the question," he says. 

Lucifer gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. "City of Angels," he says. 

Dean snorts the sip he’s just drank. Oh god, no," he laughs. "You like chick-flicks," he places a hand over his heart dramatically. 

"So do you, it seems," he says winking. 

Dean gapes for just a second. Then he sniffs and shrugs noncommittal. "You can’t prove nothing,"he says in parody of Lucifer’s words. As he’s taking another sip, he remembers something. "Are you going to tell me what had your panties all in a twist earlier?" he asks. 

Now it’s Lucifer’s turn to gape and quickly drains his drink. "Nothing. Maze likes to run her mouth about things she doesn’t know of," he mumbles sounding childish. 

Dean rolls his eyes. "This isn’t middle-school, dude. You can admit to liking a girl," he chuckles amusedly. 

"Well, seeing as I have never been to middle-school," he shrugs listlessly. "I wouldn’t know now, would I?" Lucifer quirks an eyebrow. 

Dean blinks, then blinks some more. Forgive his slowness, he’s never considered he’d be having a conversation with the actual devil, okay? "Right, yeah," he clumsily lets out. "Of course."

Lucifer snorts a laugh, pushing his empty plate to the side. "It doesn’t seem appealing, middle-school," he says. "Too much drama."

"I don’t know, your life seems pretty dramatic to me anyway." Dean says offhandedly, maybe trying to coax something out of the other man. 

"I am the devil, drama clings to me like- ah, bread to butter," he finishes lamely. 

Dean feels laughter bubbling inside him, he’s still too tired and the warmth left by the meal isn’t helping with that. "Seriously," he laughs. "That’s the best you can come up with?"

"No, un-seriously of course," the man snarks. He lets out a sigh and has a break-neck mood-swing; his eyes get this red hue and his voice becomes somehow more smoother, deeper when he speaks next. "But now tell me, Dean Winchester, what is it that you desire most?” he asks seductively. 

Dean stares at him funny, ‘weird’ is something he’d be adding to his ‘The Devil for Dummies’ book. There is no way in... well, hell, that he’d actually pour his heart out to this guy. So he answers with the best next thing. 

"Cherry pie. "

-

After, admittedly, the best pie of Dean’s life, he helps Lucifer clear the table up and wash the dishes. Which seems to surprise the other man for some reason. 

"Guests don’t normally help me do the cleaning," he explains nonchalantly. 

Dean doesn’t really want to get into this too much so he decides to bring the conversation to their common subject. “So, I was thinking-"

“Uh, that’s always dangerous,” the devil interrupts teasingly. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Oh, haha, very funny asshole," in truth he isn’t as annoyed as he’d want. For some reason he doesn’t find it insulting or patronizing. "Anyway, I was going to say that in the morning I’m gonna go do my research for ah, our vampire problem."

This is so biZarre. A hunter working together with a detective and the devil. There is fanfiction about this somewhere. 

Not that he knows anything about fanfiction, of course. 

"Oh, no," the man makes a dismissive gesture with a hand that has soapy water splashed all over Dean’s face. "We’ll have Maze do the stalkout while you join me and the detective on a case," he states as if he truly has any say on it. 

Dean grimaces and wippes his face. "Huh, ya think the detective will be okay with that?" he asks just because. 

"Well she did basically forced herself into your hunt so," he shrugs. 

That’s true. Besides Dean has always wanting to see how CSI works. 

"If you say so," he finally agrees. 

Lucifer bumps their shoulders together. "Great."

-

Lucifer lets himself fall onto the piano’s bench, exhausted. Dean has already gone to bed but Lucifer can’t. 

What is happening? What is it with this man? Besides his beauty, of course. He is witty, smart and strong and- he is a second Chloe. He didn’t succumb to his charms. 

Lucifer tugs at his hair in frustration. He isn’t sure he can handle this. 

There is only one thing to do in this situations; play. 

He caresses the keys reverently. There is no one who understands him better than this piano does. His fingers start moving on their own accord, playing a soft sorrowful melody. 

Follow me home, if you dare to. I wouldn’t know where to lead you. 

Should I take chances, when no one took chances on me...

Lucifer shakes his head. He should have never seen that movie. Fortunately no one was here to witness his Jennifer Hudson moment. It’s just there is something in these songs that call to him. 

“"Touch me, it’s so easy to leave me all alone with the memory..." he shakes himself out of this melancholy and shuts the piano’s lid down. 

Dean is going to be leaving when he finishes his hunt in two maybe three days. So no real time to explore this strange connection between them. 

If thankfully or not, remains to be seen. 

-

Dean wakes up early the next morning. He thinks he owes it to his host to make breakfast. 

He sort of had expected this to be a dream. Like the kind of dream a bad joint would give you. 

But then he’s waking up in the most comfortable bed ever and that answers the problem. 

So he rolls out of bed and wearing only sweats, he goes to the kitchen and scoop around to see what he can find. 

Lucifer has a well-stock kitchen and most importantly: a waffle-iron. Perfect. 

So Dean gets to chopping strawberries and bananas into small pieces before starting on the batter. He mixes everything until it’s smooth and then adds the fruit. He adds a tablespoon of coffee into the mixture and starts.., ah, waffleing? Does that even exist? 

‘Making the waffles’ sounds so lame so yeah, waffleing will do. 

God, is he seriously just- philosophizing (yes, Sam. He does know big words) about if you can turn ‘waffle’ into a verb? 

"Apparently so," an amused voice startles Dean. "It was delightful to hear you rant about a linguistic problem." Lucifer laughs quietly. 

"Don’t scare me like that." Dean leaves the bowl on the counter and places a hand over his heart as he turns around. "I’m too young to die of a hart -attack, dude," he grumbles. 

Lucifer walks closer with an appreciative nod, surveying the food. "This looks, and smells, divine," he compliments with a small smile. 

Dean clears his throat and gives a mock-bow. "Well thank you," he says. 

"Should I add ‘chef’ to the list of treats about you, Winchester?" he asks, teasing. 

Dean rolls his eyes and goes back to preparing breakfast. "Having read a few books and knowing how to cook somethings don’t make me a chef," he says, shrugging nonchalantly. 

"No," the man says, going to grab cutlery and the syrup. "You inventing a word about food might just do," he comments offhandedly. 

(And when the devil moans loudly at the first waffle bite Dean doesn’t feel vindicated).   
-

After leavIng Maze with the task of finding possible hideout of Dean’s bloodsucking problem, Lucifer drags a resisting Dean towards his his own car. 

The man had been reluctant to agree with this proposition, stating that he doesn’t really know protocol and that he didn’t want to impede on anyone’s job and all that. But Lucifer had shrugged and said that that was how he had gotten the job and that it might help Dean to get a feel of the city and maybe give him some clues on his own case. 

So Dean had doned his suit, holstered his gun and after much debate, decided to leave his FBI badge behind because the detective already knew who he was and therefore it wouldn’t fool anyone. 

"...maybe I should go with Ma-" the man is rambling yet again when Lucifer pushes the garage door open and finally shuts him up. 

When he turns around he can’t help but grin in satisfaction. "Let me now introduce you to my own love," he announces with a flourish. 

Dean is standing there, gaping, staring at the car. "You- you have a-," he stutters, as if he’s forgotten how to speak. 

Lucifer snorts in amusement. "Get it together, darling. It’s only a car."

Dean shakes his head. "This is a ‘67 Chevy Corvette, it’s not just a car, dude," he admonishes, finally getting his coherency back and walks to the passenger’s side. "Be respectful," he sends a stern look to the other man. 

Lucifer chuckles as he gets into the car. "Oh, should I apologize to it, then?" he says jokingly. 

Dean turns a serious look to the devil. "Of course, man. She’s a lady, you should always apologize," he says. 

Lucifer stares at the man, at his beautiful serious face, and is about to actually answer when the hunter splutters a laugh. Lucifer smiles and shakes his head before igniting the car and speeding off. 

-

They meet the detective and the forensics team in the corded street where the piece of evidence was found in. Lucifer has to make a herculean effort not to stare at Dean’s suit-clad body as he walks. Can you blame him, though? 

The man has a... sinful body. 

‘Take your head off the gutter, Morningstar,’ he reprimands himself. 

"Morning, detective," he greets as they join her in the crime scene. 

The woman eyes Dean for a moment too long before finally returning a nod in greeting. "Ella, what do you have?" she asks to the forensic. 

There’s an arm, a purse and a high-heel laying on the concrete. There isn’t a drop of blood anywhere, nor other... body parts, to Lucifer’s breakfast fortune. 

He may be the devil but he ain’t no fan of the maimed human parts. 

"A puzzle." Ella is explaining but it lacks her usual excitement. "The high-heel is a size 4, the arm looks to have belonged to a man, caucasian, between 35 and 40s and by the musculature I can tell he worked in construction or some other heavy-lifting job," she explains, frowning. "As to what happened to it though, I can’t really say."

"Those puncture marks on the wrist point to drugs." Dan adds unhelpfully. 

The detective doesn’t look convinced. 

"No, they don’t." Dean speaks up before anyone else can say anything. He comes to crouch next to the limb, he looks serious now, not the playful seriousness from earlier but serious like the detective does; like this is his area of expertise. "These are vampire marks. And this," he gestures to the severed end of the arm, "was mawed by a ghoul. "


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the dull, lame and shortchapter je. Life, as you know, has been crazy, the job and classes have been kicking my ass as well as the situation in my country. 
> 
> But well, it’s still new content, right? So I hope you enjoy.

I’m Feelin’ a Little Peculiar. 

There’s a beat of silence where everyone is just staring at Dean as if he’d spoken in tongues. 

"Wait, like... real vampires?" Ella asks hesitantly.

"Exactly like that,” the man answers, not even moving a muscle. 

Dan laughs sarcastically. "Monsters are real, yeah right," he scoffs in disbelief. "Then what, Big Foot would be real too?"

Dean shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "You’d be surprised."

"And you what, investigate them?" Ella asks, her usual spark back in her eyes. 

Dean laughs in good humor. "No, I kill them."

"Like Buffy?"

Dean face-palms. "No, Buffy is like me," he says. What is it with this people and that tv-show? 

"Okay buddy, wait. Are you actually serious?" Dan asks, flabbergasted. 

"I’m afraid he is, Daniel," Lucifer says, sounding annoyed. "Why would he make up something like that?"

Daniel gapes for a few moments but when he is ready to speak, Chloe gets there first. 

"What is a ghoul?" she asks. 

"Creatures that feed of the dead," the hunter explains. 

"So, ah, this chopped arm is the result of a... vampire and a...ghoul, is what you mean to say?" Ella asks, eyeing the severed limb. 

"Yep." Dean replies. 

"In any case, we still have to treat this as we would any other. So Ella, get the evidence back to the lab and see what you can find," Chloe orders. 

"Wait, wait a second Chloe. Are you seriously considering this?" Dan asks, looking to be at his wits’ end. 

"Listen man, you can either believe me or not, makes no difference." Dean says exasperatedly. "I still have to gank these creatures off and report back to base," he goes on in a professional tone. "And in all honesty I don’t need you for that."

"What you mean ‘report back to base’?" the man says. 

Dean rolls his eyes because seriously? Does he really have to explain that to someone who works as police?

"Come now, Daniel. I’m sure even you understand what he means." Lucifer says not at all patronizing. 

"Alright guys, lets get this over with." Chloe cuts in before anything else can happen and makes a gesture for Ella to go do what she’d asked. 

Ella nods and starts baging the evidence to be transported. Dean inspects the arm once more before it’s taken away. It’s interesting, the posibility of a vampire and a ghoul working together. It’s also pretty smart; one drinks the blood while the other eats the evidence. Perfect. 

"Can I come along?" Dean asks Ella when she retrieves the arm. 

"Uh-ah, yeah, s-sure " she stutters and blushes. 

Dean smiles and winks at her. "Great. I’ll go tell Lucifer then."

She nods andquickly bags the arm before practically skipping to her car. 

She’s cute in a nerdy kind of way, he thinks as he walks to where Lucifer and Chloe are talking. 

"Hey, second partner,".greets Lucifer, patting him on the shoulder. "Ready to move along?"

Dean and Chloe exchange a puzzled look before he shakes his head and points a thumb at where Ella is. "Nah man, I’m catching a ride with her," he says, "so guess I’ll see ya later," he walks back the way he came, ignoring the disappointed look in Lucifer’s face. 

Dean has never enjoyed another nerd’s company besides Sam’s. Until now. 

Ella may be a bit too touchy and cheery for Dean’s tastes but she’s cool (her music choices could improve) and Dean enjoys her brand of smart and humor. 

She lets him into her lab and help with some of the tests and Dean feels like he is in one of those CSI shows and he is enjoying himself. 

"So how is it you know Lucifer?" Ella asks, tinkering with her equipment. 

Dean is distracted staring intently at the deft movements of her hands so it takes him a minute to realize she’d spoken. "Huh? Oh, just met him the other day when I was beheading a vampire," he replies absentmindedly. 

"Holly bananas," she exclaims, nearly dropping her beaker. "You beheaded a vampire," she says, between stating and asking. 

Dean frowns, feigning ignorance. "Yeah, didn’t Buffy teach you you gotta behead a vampire?"

Ella shakes her head in disbelief. "Aaand Lucifer saw you," she continues completely ignoring his teasing jab. 

Dean lifts an eyebrow. "The detective was with him," he says, shrugging. 

Ella chews her lower lip, thoughtful. "Figures why they didn’t look freaked out with your explanation," she mumbles. 

"She looks badass pointing a gun at me," he says with a grin. 

Ella makes a sound between a chuckle and a choke. "Oookay buddy, let me get you a petri dish for your drool there." 

Dean laughs, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing like that," he dismisses. 

Ella clears her throat. "Riiight, you did ride in with Lucifer," there is a ‘da’ in there. 

Dean almost topples over from his stool. "What- oh no, no. It’s not- no," he shakes his head vigorously. "I met him two days ago," he whines. 

Ella gives him an unimpressed look. "I’ll ask you again in a week then." 

Dean arranges himself on the stool and focuses on the instruments on the table. "So, what would you want me to do?" he asks, changing the subject. 

Ella looks at him with wide eyes. "Oh you actually know how to?"

Dean winks at her. "I know a great many things," he says making her laugh. 

"So, ah, was this your choice of job?" she asks tentatively. 

Dean exhales through his mouth. "It was more of... inheriting the family trait," he says simply, not wanting to divulge too much. 

Ella glances at him contemplative. "You don’t sound very happy about it," she points out. 

He shrugs helplessly. "I like to help people, save lives," he says and yeah, it may not be an answer but it’s the best he’s got. 

She looks at him sympathetically and slides him a rack with test tubes. "Well we better get to it then, partner," she winks at him and goes back to her own thing. 

Dean smiles to himself, appreciating what she just did, and starts sampling evidence. 

-

Lucifer has been watching Dean dance for the past half hour. He’d arrived back at Lux an hour after Lucifer and had gone straight for the dance-floor. And damn but the human knows how to move. 

Lucifer wants nothing more than to go sequester him away and keep him all for himself. Maybe dance well into the night. 

So he throws back one last shot of tequila before going to get what he wanted. 

When you came in the air went out

Lucifer arrives to where the hunter is absorbed in his dancing and with a gesture dismisses the girl the man had been dancing with. Lucifer takes her place. 

I don’t know who do you think you are but before the night is through, I wanna do bad things with you

Dean smirks as he grabs onto Lucifer’s hips, taking control of the dance.   
He brings their bodies close, ondulating them and tantalizingly slowly brings them to the floor. It’s all very sensual; the way he moves, the way he dances them back up and down again. 

Lucifer’s mind has blanked out, he’s breathing harshly, he’s arms around Dean’s shoulders and oh but this is- this is something Lucifer had been looking for. 

Dean’s eyes are smoldering green and he still has that infuriating smirk on his inviting lips. One of his hands is pressing against the low of Lucifer’s back, pulling him closer as he brings them down again. 

When you came in, my air went out. And all those shadows there filled up with doubts. 

Lucifer is loath to admit that he relates with the opening song of a vampires’ tv-show but well. He does. 

Dean’s lips mouth the words against his neck, making Lucifer shiver deliciously and eliciting a moan from him. 

Dean gives a barely-there lick to the shell of his ear as he pulls a fancy-sexy-delightful leg move in which he wraps it around Lucifer’s thigh and very deliberately slides it down the length of the leg. 

Damn, Lucifer wants-

A harsh shake of the shoulder wakes Lucifer from his daydream, causing him to nearly fall from his chair. 

"God, Lucifer.” Chloe hisses angrily. "Are you seriously sleeping in the job?" she huffs. "Get your ass to the conference room, the results of the tests are out."

She continues huffing and grumbling as she goes, leaving a dazed Lucifer behind. 

Was that all just a dream? That’s just- well, that’s just cruel. 

He enters the room to Dean flirting with Ella, Dan rolling his eyes and Chloe looking on, amused. Lucifer wants to show his devil’s face at them all. 

Thankfully-or well, depends to who do you ask- Miss López start speaking. "So, after putting the evidence through a bunch of tests, we managed to determine the victims’ identities," she starts. "The heel and the purse belong to a woman named Clarissa Sheinbaun and the arm..." she trails off, biting her lower lip. 

"What, Ella?" Chloe prompts, cocking an eyebrow. 

Lucifer just stands brooding in the corner, staring at the hunter, who is staring intently at the screen where the images were projected. He knows it’s stupid to feel gutted because of a daydream, but still. There is something about this man that pulls Lucifer in like a moth to a flame. This isn’t the time to dwell on his missery though, there are crimes to solve. 

Ella takes a deep breath and goes on. "The arm belongs to the senator Adam Kleinbourgh."


End file.
